Corrosive
by Midnight Star and DragonFire
Summary: “…my hate was corrosive- and I had more inside me that he could take. The acid would burn through him like a blowtorch through ice”…Harry/Draco slash [m/m pairing]


1.1 Corrosive  
  
Midnight Star [slytherin_pureblood@yahoo.com]  
  
Summary: "…my hate was corrosive- and I had more inside me that he could take. The acid would burn through him like a blowtorch through ice"…Harry/Draco slash  
  
Rated: R/NC-17  
  
With lyrics from Karissa Noel's 'I will corrupt you' and quotes from Fight Club  
  
*  
  
There's a breech in your security/I'm beside you finally  
  
I wondered if he knew how impossibly beautiful he was…  
  
The pain twisted him, tearing him apart with it's harsh caresses- a tinsel puppet on an iron chain. His throat, like porcelain, as delicate as the pale lips that trembled in the effort not to scream. He wasn't going to let me have that pleasure- I knew him- I saw bits of myself reflected in him…but he was a distorted mirror to my life. His wholesome, perfect image- the myth of the everlasting hero that clung to him like a fine glittering mist. It was that perfection that drew me to him in the beginning- to see whether I could force a crack in the glass and cause the entire world to come shattering down into splinters at my feet. My fingers traced the scar that marked him as I felt his breath on my cheek, hot and defiant.  
  
"I want to see you break." I whispered, fingers tightening around his chin as I pulled his face up to capture his mouth. My lips crushed his, pushing against him, forcing him to respond to me.  
  
He looked at me with those slashes of violent green, a trace of blood beading at his lip from the force of my kiss. "I don't know how to break."  
  
The remnants of youth in his voice hurt me, the honesty making me feel slightly ill. I shoved him against the wall and smiled when his body collided with it. He crumpled slowly onto the floor and I crawled to him, climbing on top of him and pressing against him with my weight. He was shirtless, the sweat leant his skin a luminous bluish quality. I felt like I was defiling a God- I wanted to defile a God. To be the sin that caused him to tumble from the celestial heavens and onto the coarse earth while the stars gazed down in pity for the fallen immortal.  
  
I wanted to watch his descent as he turned from the hero of all into me…  
  
I wanted to laugh and tell him how easily he could have become me. To make him crawl in the same base and filth that I trudged through, to view the world without the benefit of his halo- to show him pain and hate and lust and anger and grief that was so pure that it couldn't exist. How I wanted to show him hate. Unadulterated hate like sugar coated cyanide that loved you as it killed you, caressed you as it tightened its fingers around your throat. I wanted to destroy that golden sphere of light that was impregnable to everything that I knew- that allowed him to retain his innocence. I wanted to drench his hands- his mouth- his soul with blood and watch him implode with the weight of shattered expectations. I wanted to rend and tear at his innocence with my teeth, feel him betray everything that he so lives for as he shudders in my arms. I will show him my pain, and he will crumble.  
  
My objective- distort your view/Wreck the very core of you  
  
My cold, pale fingers moved across his chest and twined in his hair, pulling his head to the side to expose his throat. I tasted him- salty and tingling- on my tongue and felt my teeth push against his skin. I didn't want to spill his blood- his scarlet blood that would stain my soul for eternity. I traced his jaw, feeling his hard ribs push against my stomach as he gasped for air. My arms reached out and my fingers slid over the vertebrae of his back and pulled him closer to me. His mouth stopped resisting me, and I felt his fingers pulling at my hair. Our foreheads were pressed against each other, and I was straddling him. My legs rested on the floor, and I could feel the coldness seeping through my robes. He shivered slightly, and the thought that he was cold made me smile.  
  
He smiled in response and I snarled, pushing away from his body with my arms and standing up. He was allowing me to do this to him because he knew this hurt me more than it hurt him. I wanted to destroy him, to play with him- but instead he toyed with me. I hated my inability to free myself from him. Physical pain was nothing, and he enjoyed his bruises- he enjoyed his little catharsis while I was left with incomprehensible rage. But that was why I kept coming back, because rage was so much better than emptiness…  
  
Tantalise, compromise your position/Dismantle your design  
  
I looked down at myself, my black robes were crumpled and the emerald green cape I had been wearing was in a heap on the floor. I bent to pick it up and avoided his questioning eyes.  
  
"Why are you running away?"  
  
My glacier-grey eyes met with his, chilling the green fire. "I'm not running away."  
  
"Yes you are."  
  
He was supposed to be my marionette, my perfect hero plaything- but I had become his puppet bound by the strings of love. I had imagined his world would be so easy to rend, but he was more resilient. "I don't run away, Potter." But he was not resilient enough to survive my hate, much less my love.  
  
"Then stay…stay and finish what you started." An invitation. That had never happened before. He scrambled to his feet, and I could see him wince at the soreness in his back. His trousers were torn where he had scratched against something- his hair even more dishevelled than usual. He looked so vulnerable without his glasses, like a lost child searching for a parent. So why was he here with me? It was because he thought he could escape unscathed- bend to kiss the Dementor and then avoid its lips. But I was not such a fool. "Or are you afraid?"  
  
Oh, but he was good. Trying to hit on what he thought were my weak spots, but I was no Gryffindor. "I'm not afraid. I don't have to prove anything to you."  
  
"Don't you?" There was a hint of challenge in his eyes- he was asking me to try and crush him. Foolhardy, arrogant little git. I said nothing and he laughed, an easy mocking laugh. "I could make you stay here if I wanted."  
  
I raised one eyebrow, a little impressed by his boldness. The way he tilted his head, one arm casually resting on his hip as he regarded me made me ache. He stepped forward until he was only a few centimetres from me, and my cold breath mixed with his in a heady potion of desire and defiance. He leaned forward and brushed his lips with mine, the simple action making me feel weak. I could feel a little nervousness in his touch; in the gentle way he kissed me. I returned it with passion- hungry, lusty, dirty passion that forced his lips open and allowed me to look inside him and see the galaxies swirling in the back of his throat.  
  
2 Get down to make and to face your convictions/Recreate, you're still mine  
  
His skin, too pale and his eyes, too dark. Blue shadows spread underneath them, ink staining brittle glass. If I didn't destroy him, obliterate him, morph him into a weak squealing begging echo of himself…then he would destroy me.  
  
He is my broken, distorting mirror of me and he slashes my hands when I try and gather his pieces. Can you love a mirror? To delight in the smooth unbrokenness of it's perfection and marvel at the realm of untouchability extended around it…or would you break the mirror and forever shatter yourself into fragments?  
  
"What's wrong?" The sudden whisper of concern in his tone made me look up.  
  
I hadn't even realised that I was shivering. I locked him with my gaze and stood up straighter, pinning his arms against the wall. "Absolutely nothing…"  
  
Each time he whimpered or screamed I rejoiced, for in his dependence of me I found independence of him. I drove harder into him, so that I would hurt him- hurt him so badly that he would bend like plastic in my moulding hands. Our bodies shuddered in completion, in pleasure borne out of desperation and horror and the darkness inside of ourselves that would consume us if we tried to run. I could see the red marks where my fingers had dug into his back, the bloody marks that would take weeks to heal. He turned and looked up at me, breathing hard, his face sprinkled with light pearl moondust. I kissed him gently, my hatred spent and my will exhausted. My fingers once more traced the scar on his forehead, but somehow I knew that the scars I had given him ran deeper than even that.  
  
He scarred your face, but not your soul.  
  
He stole my soul, but left my mind.  
  
All in all, you got a better deal.  
  
We lay together on my cloak, tired and hurt and afraid of the future. Afraid of what we had done, of whether we had allowed our masks to slip off too soon. I hated myself for being so scared- but we were just children. Children of seventeen and eighteen whose lives had been affected by too much darkness. We were the children who pretended we knew- the generation of heroes and villains. Everything had come much too fast- we had seen too much death- our only escape from insanity was denial.  
  
I had no more strength to erect barriers of steel and diamond- he had sucked the hate out of me and spat it out. But my hate was corrosive- and I had more inside me that he could take. The acid would burn through him like a blowtorch through ice. I gently brushed the hair away from his eyes, holding him closer and cradling his head against my neck. Silver-blonde strands mixed with deep black like shots of moonlight in the dark.  
  
Deny me if you think you can  
  
3 But I always get my man  
  
And before this night is through  
  
I will corrupt you  
  
"Why are you doing this to me?" He asked, his voice open and frank but not accusing.  
  
I didn't answer him for a moment. "Because you're doing it to me." He didn't reply, but looked away. Maybe he was wondering how he would tell his Gryffindor friends he had just lost his virginity to a boy, and that boy was Draco Malfoy. I didn't know.  
  
That was one of the perks of being me- I didn't have friends to deceive. I could just go on lying to my housemates like I have been doing for eighteen years. I wished Professor Snape was still around and sighed softly- he was the only person whom I could have talked to at Hogwarts. Mother and I were close as well, but this wasn't the sort of thing you told your mother. And I doubted Narcissa could ever understand the wonder of lying on a cold stone floor in an abandoned potions classroom with the boy who lived lying next to you.  
  
I was going to destroy him and recreate him.  
  
He was surprisingly quiet. Usually he was the talker when we met, but this meeting had been different. I felt a sudden pang as he shifted in my arms- had I taken advantage of him? I laughed inwardly at the thought and wondered whether I was going soft and silly. If I didn't watch out, I'd be bringing him flowers and candy and reciting love poetry.  
  
"Do you hate me?"  
  
His voice was small and timid and very far away. "Why do you ask?" I replied, even though I wanted to ask him where he got that notion. Why would I waste such passion on a person I hated?  
  
"The way you look at me sometimes." He whispered back. "The way you say 'I love you' so intensely like it's a curse."  
  
"It is a curse."  
  
He seemed not to have heard me, staring into the distance- at some faraway object that I could never see. "Everything I love gets destroyed- everyone who loves me is a target." He turned back to me with anger on his features. "I can understand my fear of love…but I can't understand yours."  
  
"I'm not afraid of love." It was a lie and Harry knew it. "I'm just afraid of what it might do…to me and the person I love." Could he survive it?- not without changing. But I would change him.  
  
He saw my discomfort and changed the topic rather abruptly. He was not a skilled conversationalist. "Why did you come to me…in the beginning?"  
  
"Because I wanted to destroy something beautiful."  
  
And when your thoughts have been cleansed and corrected  
  
We'll celebrate the day  
  
When everything that you were is rejected  
  
That's when I'll have my way  
  
He settled back down against my neck, and I could smell his hope and fear and love. His breathing soon became regular and his body eased into sleep. I watched him like that for…I don't even know how long. I wondered whether it would have been easier if he hadn't been the boy who lived and I hadn't been Lucius Malfoy's son. After he graduated, he was going to become an Auror…he had told me, with fire blazing in his eyes, that he would destroy Voldemort. And I? I was going to become a Death Eater. Neither of us would be dissuaded. I believed in my duty perhaps even more than he believed in his…why was I holding the enemy in my arms?  
  
And why did I want to hold him in my arms forever.  
  
I wanted to hurt him just so that I could apply the salve to his wounds. The fire that blazed all around us would someday consume us, but I didn't care. He looked so peaceful, not a hint of guardedness in his features. Like some divine angel. And I was going to destroy that- that was the sum total of my love…all love…  
  
Can you love a mirror in all its perfection?…  
  
Can a mirror love you back?  
  
* 


End file.
